Laughter Lines
by Not-Terrestrial
Summary: Sometimes time away can show us how close we were to others and sometimes time away can help us grow as people, lovers, or friends. In the end we always have to choose whether to come back or not. Inspired by the song 'Laughter Lines' from Bastille. It is somewhat angsty so be warned.


**Laughter**** Lines**

The house was quiet, more than its usual self. The tall dark man walking down the hall could not help but notice that small insignificant detail. He could not help but dwell on the fact that it has been months since anything worth making noise has occurred. The news he brought with him now would only make the silence resonate louder than before. He sighed as he stopped before a grand door and took a moment before deciding to open it and walk in. It led to a library, but it wasn't used much for reading nowadays; none of the rooms that held any importance were used for their designed use really. The smell of cigars and whiskey engulfed him, proof to what his boss has been up to this whole week. It wasnt a very good week for him.

With every step he, Dembe, took towards the lounge chair farthest to the door, the feeling of dread crawled up his skin. He did not want to be the one to tell him the news. He kept walking because he knew Raymond must have heard him come in. The chair facing away from him was both concealing its occupant and giving hima grand view of the vast woods outside. He knew better than to think Raymond was enjoying the view. He knew even more how his voice was the last one he wanted to hear, Raymond only wanted to hear one voice and that one has been long gone. This week makes a year.

When he came into his view, Dembe silently cringed at the sight of his old friend. Raymond, the man known for his suits and matching fedoras, sat in a dark blue robe that could have seen better days, His feet were bare and his lounging pants covered his heels. Dembe noticed he had not shaven since he last saw him and the bags under his eyes were testament to how his nights were spent. Whatever happened to the Concierge of Crime was what everyone asked themselves, and yet here, in this old Victorian home hidden in the thick Vermont woods, sat the ghost of who that man was. The anniversary of her leaving would just be a reminder of how they have failed to find her.

"Did you make contact?" There was no demanding tone in his voice. Instead it was just said as emotionless as possible with a small hint of hope. Every time he came back that small bit of hope would diminish even further. Dembe couldn't blame him on that though.

"Yes." He paused, a bit unwilling to continue, but he knew he had to get to it eventually. "There have been no leads as of late, Raymond. All of our connections in South America have responded in the negative and so have the ones in the Asia. No one has seen, heard, or even caught a glimpse of Elizabeth Keen." There he said it.

Raymond just took in his words with another sip of his glass, God knew what was in it, and held his gaze towards the wooded scenery. Yes, he figured correctly when he thought about the silence being louder than before. It was broken when he spoke again.

"Thank you Dembe." It felt like a dismissal so he did an about face and was ready to leave him alone again, but a hand shot out and gripped his forearm. He looked back down into the sad eyes of his best friend turned brother. "No, I mean it. Thank you brother, for being here and for standing by my side. I do not know where or what i would be doing without you."

"You are welcome my friend, I will be here always. You just need to say the words and i will serve you as long as you need." He smiled because this shadow of a great man was slowly coming to his senses. He just needed a few more days to regroup from this awful year. "Everyone is asking for you Raymond, they are wondering why it is that I am making all the calls instead of the man himself. It has been close to a month since they last heard of you."

"Yes I know. Prepare the jet and have it ready by tomorrow then. I will make my grand return soon." His voice was laced in hidden emotion, but Dembe wouldn't call him up on it. "That will be all brother, thank you again."

He was silent as always as he made his way back out and closed the door. He did not miss the sound of shattering glass and he paused for a second, concern etched on his face. Raymond held himself perfect in the eyes of others, even himself sometimes, but here where no one could see, he let out his true feelings on Ms. Keen's leaving. It was good for him to vent, because when he came back he had to be an even stronger version of himself, if not for him then for her, wherever she may be. Let her see that he would not be unfazed, or let her see what her actions a year ago have created of this man. Let her see how broken he is so that maybe, just maybe, she may come back to him.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in London..._

London of all places was the last place she thought she would ever end up. For a long while she felt that the FBI would come in bursting through her door ready to take her to prison for some reason she could not make. Or worse, that he would be sitting in her living room one day just waiting for her to get home. His face would be stone cold and his calm silence would make her squirm with no mercy. Those green eyes she sees every night in her sleep would make contact with hers and she would be done. Yes, that would be far worse than the FBI coming, because his coldness regarding her actions would break her beyond measure. Yet, those days never come. She never gets a feeling of being watched and no one has come trampling down her door. She did well in choosing this place to hide.

She smiled as a group of young teens came barging into the café she worked at. They all sat down and she swept her thoughts away. Working here, a small café in London, was fun and she loved it. Most days she would remember her past, remember him, but then someone worth getting to know would come in and she would walk up to them and ask them what they would like. It didn't hurt that she lived in the apartment upstairs and that the owners trusted her enough to give her the keys to the whole place. That is what a year of loyalty to an old married couple would do. They treated her like a daughter now, never asking about her past. When they took in a stray American they were hesitant, but that hesitance is long ago gone. This was the way she planned to live her life now and maybe she may someday forget about him. He must have forgotten about her by now anyways since she was probably only just a pawn in his game. Her feelings for him would have complicated things for him, making it difficult to continue working.

Taking the orders from the teens she headed back and placed the paper in line to the other orders. She grabbed the coffee and muffin for another customer and walked over to him. Every time she smiled at a customer they couldn't help but smile back and this one did just that. She was happy making others smile. Even if this wasn't the best paying job, compared to her degree's and past work history, she was glad for it. It kept her off the books and off the radar, his radar if he was looking. Although a small part of her hoped he was, she knew that once a hint of her location was out she had to leave again. She would not be able to survive his fury. Maybe when they are a bit older, when she has her own stories to learn from, when she has gained maturity in her own way, they may meet again. Maybe they will look back and laugh it off, like it was all just childlike antics that fueled her fleeing.

* * *

**Inspired by the song "Laughter Lines" from Bastille.**

**IDK if I should continue or leave it as a one shot, but let me know your thoughts on it. Help me grow as a writer as well, so constructive criticism id always welcome :)**


End file.
